


Shots Fired

by charmed7293



Series: Mob Boss Babysitter [4]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, April Fools' Day, Gun Violence, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Reunions, Suicide Attempt, microchipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmed7293/pseuds/charmed7293
Summary: A collection of prompts and ficlets from Tumblr based on my Mob Boss Babysitter series. Check each chapter for a summary. Tags and warnings are for all prompts.





	1. Initiating

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! It's been a while! I hope you're hanging in there with all the drama going down on Tumblr. I'm going through my blog looking for some things I want to save and remembered a bunch of Mob Boss Babysitter content that was only on Tumblr and figured I should throw it on AO3 just in case. I'll update every few days or so as I adjust some formatting and do some loose beta-ing. The title is a play on one shots and shots from a gun heyyyyy
> 
> Also, you can find me on Twitter at [charmed_7293](https://twitter.com/charmed_7293) and on PillowFort at [fukujoshi](https://www.pillowfort.io/fukujoshi).
> 
> If anyone still cares, I'm sorry this isn't a Transaction update, but I _swear_ that fic is always in the back of my mind and there's still a spark there somewhere. I still occasionally get reviews asking after it and I love every single one of them even if I can't deliver at the moment. Please be patient!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nachtgespenst asked for "Jack surprising Pitch when initiating of his own will for the first time?"

Jack took a deep breath. He was standing outside the door to Pitch’s office, just as nervous as he had been the first time, though for an entirely different reason. This time, he wasn’t afraid for his life, but afraid of rejection. Pitch hadn’t called him to his office the past couple of days and Jack couldn’t help but wonder and worry if something was wrong.

 _Has Pitch gotten sick of me? He would have said something, right? No, everything’s okay_ , Jack told himself. _He’s just busy with work and that’s why I came here. To make him take a break._

Shoving his doubts aside, Jack knocked on the door.

“Only enter if it is of the utmost importance,” Pitch’s voice called, sounding distracted. The line itself sounded rehearsed.

“Um, okay, I’ll come back later then,” Jack said, loud enough for Pitch could hear him through the thick wood of the door. _I said I was determined to do this, but on second thought I really don’t want to interrupt him if he’s doing something important._

“Jack? No, wait.” Hurried footsteps approached the door and it flew open, revealing a disheveled and slightly crazed Pitch.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked, not used to Pitch being anything less than put together. At least not before sex. And this was most definitely _before_ sex.

“Is something wrong? Is everything okay with Sera? Are _you_ okay?” Pitch asked, disregarding Jack’s question. He looked like he was trying not to panic.

“No, no, everything’s fine.” Jack gave Pitch enough time sigh in relief and visibly relax before he continued. “Aside from my sexual frustration that is.”

Jack smirked, carefully gauging Pitch’s reaction. Pitch’s eyes widened and he stepped back to allow Jack in, but there were no other significant changes.

“Is that why you came here?” Pitch asked, sounding infinitely confused, as he closed the door.

“Exactly,” Jack whispered, leaning up and wrapping his arms around Pitch’s neck. Pitch’s arms slowly went around his waist in return, though he looked like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“I’ve just missed you that’s all,” Jack continued, letting his lips brush over Pitch’s as he spoke. He paused, hovering as if he was about to go in for a kiss, before abruptly pulling away. “But if you’re busy, I’ll come back later.”

Jack stepped out of the loose circle of Pitch’s arms and headed to the door, leaving Pitch standing there with a very nice what-just-happened expression on his face.

Jack gasped when he was spun around and pushed against the wall.

“You’re not going any—”

Jack cut Pitch off with a kiss, the first one he had ever initiated. In fact, this was the first time he had initiated anything. Of course, Jack was always a willing participant in their trysts, but he had never been the one to approach Pitch, instead allowing him to control the frequency of their meetings. How good—amazing actually—things had been going lately, combined with Pitch’s own lack of action, had given Jack enough confidence to make the first move himself.

Pitch’s groan of approval definitely indicated he was correct in that line of thinking.


	2. Noncon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon said "I'd like a non/dub-con prompt if possible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings ahead for noncon! This is a completely not-canon version of [Office Meeting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/966031) where Jack refuses.

 

“Tell you? I’m a man of action, Jack. I would prefer to show you instead.”

Jack wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that. He knew he didn’t like it when Pitch got up from his desk and walked around to the other side, his side. The smirk fell from his face and he took a small step back as Pitch approached him.

 _What is he doing? Why is he—_ Jack’s train of thought was cut off when Pitch grabbed a fistful of his hoodie and yanked him forward, crushing their mouths together.

Jack’s eyes widened and he stared, unseeing, at the wall behind Pitch’s desk. His heart beat painfully against his ribs and he couldn’t breathe. Pitch was kissing him.

He didn’t like it. Nothing good could come from it. Pitch was the _Nightmare King_ , the most notorious crime lord the area had ever seen. Jack was his employee, his underling, someone Pitch definitely saw as below him. There was an unhealthy imbalance of power there that did not bode well at all.

Jack tried to break the kiss, but the hand bunching up the front of his hoodie slid around to the back of his head, holding him still with a tight grip. Pitch’s other arm wound around his waist with the strength of an iron band and pulled him close.

Jack brought his palms to Pitch’s chest and pushed back, making a sound of protest. Pitch’s lips twisted into a snarl against his own, but he only pressed harder and forced his tongue past Jack’s lips. Jack clamped his jaw closed, creating a barrier with his teeth. Pitch couldn’t push past that and Jack hoped he would back off, allowing him to voice his objections.

However, Pitch wasn’t deterred so easily. His grip on the back of Jack’s head switched to his hair and jerked back sharply. It broke the kiss, but put such a strain on Jack’s throat that he had to open his mouth and Pitch descended upon him once again.

This time, Jack was more vocal, practically shouting into Pitch’s mouth. When Pitch pulled away, Jack quickly brought his hands up to Pitch’s face to hold him at bay.

“What are you _doing_?” he panted. He had made it clear he wasn’t receptive to Pitch’s advances, so why was he carrying on like this?

Pitch lazily quirked an eyebrow, looking down at Jack with condescension. The uncomfortable angle that Jack’s head was bent back at further distorted his view of Pitch, making him look all the more intimidating and superior.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you, Jack? I thought you were more intelligent—and experienced—than that,” Pitch said, still staring down his nose at Jack.

Jack wasn’t insulted by mere words, but the fact that Pitch wasn’t showing any sign of remorse or stopping did much more than frighten him. He did _not_ like where this was going.

“Let me go,” Jack said firmly.

“And why should I?”

 _Nope, I’m done with this_ , Jack thought, willing himself not to panic. There was no reasoning with Pitch and, though escape seemed just as unlikely, he had to try.

He wrenched himself out of Pitch’s relaxed grip, but wasn’t able to take more than a step in the opposite direction before Pitch’s arms wrapped around him, pulling Jack back in with his back against Pitch’s chest. The grip pinned his arms to his sides, crushing and unrelenting through his continued struggles. Jack threw his head back, hoping to hit Pitch in the jaw, but he was too short and his head only thumped uselessly against Pitch’s sternum instead.

“I’m almost disappointed that you’re only putting up this much of a fight,” Pitch drawled, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. “I expected I would have to do more to subdue you.”

 _He’s been_ planning _this._ “You’re sick, you know that?”

“Oh, Jack, one doesn’t become the head of a criminal organization by being a good person.”

“I never thought you were a _good person_. I just assumed you were above _this_ ,” Jack snarled. He dug his heels into the carpet and leaned forward against Pitch’s arms, trying to break through them.

“Hmmm . . . well I’m glad you’ve realized that you are mistaken. And that there won’t be any surprises regarding what’s about to happen.”

Jack screamed then, screamed for help, but there was no one to hear him. _There weren’t any guards in the hallway, how could I be so_ stupid _, but it’s not like they would go against Pitch just to help me. There’s_ nothing _I can do!_

Jack wasn’t going to give up so easily and he forced his body to stay in motion, to twist and turn, and didn’t stop screaming. He could hear Pitch chuckling in his ear, as if this was giving him some kind of fucked up satisfaction, which is most likely was.

After some struggling, Jack managed to break free, though he was sure it was only because Pitch let him. Hoping to take him by surprise, Jack spun around, bringing his fist up, planning to use his momentum to put power behind a punch to Pitch’s face.

Pitch’s hand caught his fist, enveloping it and holding tightly. Jack pushed against Pitch’s palm, his arm shaking with the effort, but Pitch was much stronger than him. Jack was completely unprepared when Pitch buried his own fist in his stomach. Winded, he coughed and gasped for air as his knees went weak, leaving him sagging with only Pitch’s hold keeping him up.

Jack was distantly aware of Pitch grabbing his other hand and bringing both together. Something silky and warm—Pitch’s tie—wrapped around his wrists and they were jerked up, over his head. The tie bit into his wrists as it supported his weight. Pitch gripped his chin and lifted his head to look him in the eye. Jack stared back defiantly.

“I’m done fooling around,” Pitch said sternly. ”Now, you can continue struggling, but that would not be wise if you wish to keep your job.”

Jack’s eyes widened. That wasn’t just a threat to his financial situation. He could easily get his old babysitting jobs back; they may not pay as much, but he managed before and he could manage again. The problem laid in the fact that he was not allowed to simply leave Pitch’s employment. It had been made clear to him multiple times that termination of his employment meant death. This was not a choice at all.

Jack averted his eyes and nodded sharply in understanding.

“Good boy.”

Jack found himself bent over the desk before his face had the chance to burn in shame. Pitch leaned over him, pressing him harder against the surface as he secured the end of the tie to the handle on one of the drawers. The edge of the desk dug painfully into his stomach.

Everything dulled as Pitch undid his pants and pulled them down, his own soon following. Jack didn’t quite feel Pitch’s hands running over his skin or hear Pitch’s voice whispering in his ear. His tears were but slight dampness on his cheeks and his cries were only muffled whimpers in the distance. Even the pain of being taken barely prepared and with hardly enough lube was muted.

Jack didn’t become fully aware again until he stumbled into the hallway as Pitch pushed him out the door. Catching himself against the opposite wall, Jack forced himself not to break down. He dragged himself to his room, completely forgetting about going back to Seraphina, who had been left in the temporary care of a security guard.

He locked his door as soon as he closed it behind him and limped to his bed. He eased down onto it, letting out a low moan of pain despite the softness of the mattress. Laying down and curling up, he hugged his pillow close to his body and allowed himself to cry.

* * *

 

Jack shouldn’t have been surprised when Pitch requested—ordered—he come to his office again a week later. He didn’t know what to do when his fellow employee had the gall to laugh at his look of horror after she informed him of such.

“Oh, you’ll be _fine_! You’ve gone in there once and, look, you’re fine, so you can do it again. You’re too overdramatic sometimes,” she said, patting his face in companionable teasing before walking away. There was no way she knew what had actually transpired. She would not have been that casual, that dismissive of everything. Jack hoped, at least, that all the employees were not as caustic and heartless as their boss.

However, she was right about one thing. Jack could do _that_ again. Especially as it was a choice between that and death.

* * *

 

Several weeks later found Jack doubting his resolve. He was jumpy every second of the day, even when he was at school, away from the house—and Pitch. Catching a glimpse of anyone vaguely Pitch’s height and build nearly sent him into a panic attack, but that was nothing compared to the real thing.

Jack had always feared him employer, and with good reason, but it was a very different fear. It used to resemble some mixture of respect and recognition of power and now it was just pure terror, distilled down to his base instincts. And it was unrelenting, just as Pitch was.

He once thought a week was a short stretch of time, but he would give anything for that long to recover.

* * *

 

Once, Pitch took him in his own room. Jack couldn’t sleep in there after that—the bed felt too dirty—but there was nowhere else he could sleep either. If his locked door didn’t keep him safe, what chance did an armchair in the open rooms of the library have?

He didn’t realized how apparent his lack of sleep was until, one day, he and Seraphina were putting together a puzzle, a nice calm activity that didn’t take much energy, something Jack had been limiting himself to lately.

“You look sleepy,” she said. “Really, _really_ sleepy. Like when I try to stay up past my bedtime.”

Jack didn’t know how to respond. He could explain it away, but he honestly didn’t have the energy for that. “Do I?”

“Mmmhhmmm. Do you need a nap? I used to need naps, but I don’t anymore because I’m all grown up now, but it’s okay if you need one.”

He was reluctant to pretend for the sake of humoring her, afraid he would actually fall asleep, but Pitch would never do anything around his daughter and he really did need the sleep. He managed to hold off collapsing until Sera spread out a blanket and surrounded it with a blockade of stuffed animals. He drifted off as Sera burrowed into his arms.

* * *

 

Jack would never get used to the sick jolt and twist in his stomach whenever Sera joyfully called out, “Daddy!” and ran from whatever game they were playing to greet Pitch with a tackle hug around the knees. She didn’t _know_ and Jack never dreamed of telling her, but he wondered what she would do if she did know, if he told her, if she found out that her father was a _monster_ because that’s what he was. Nothing short of a monster would give such a razor-edged smile while settling down next to him on the floor in the guise of continuing the game with them.

The monster was playing a game all right, but it certainly wasn’t the one Sera was so overjoyed to be playing with her “two favorite people in the whole wide world.”

* * *

 

Jack was searching through a cabinet in a spare bathroom when he found it. He was originally looking for disinfectant and some gauze to treat the rope burns on his wrists, but this could work. Pitch kept weapons squirreled away in random parts of the house, for emergencies and Jack felt this counted as an emergency.

The metal felt cool and smooth under his fingertips. Once, the object in his hands would have represented danger, but now it meant escape. Escape of a very permanent variety, but that was the only brand available to him and the gun allowed him to do it on his own terms. He never imagined he would resort to this, but things had only been getting worse with no indication of getting better.

The rest of the day, Jack was extra cautious in avoiding Pitch, hoping that if he didn’t draw attention to himself Pitch wouldn’t think to seek him out later. When he put Sera to bed, he hugged her tightly, unable to refrain from crying. If there was one thing he regretted it would be doing this to her.

“Jack, why are you sad?” she asked wiping at his tears as he tucked her in.

“For a lot of reasons, sunshine,” he said simply.

“Did I do something bad?”

“No,” Jack said forcefully. “No, it’s not you. Never think it was you, okay?”

“I’ll still make it all better in the morning, ’kay? I promise.”

Jack ignored the burning behind his eyes and in this throat as he whispered a goodnight and left Sera’s room to go to his own. He didn’t even waste time closing the door, heading straight for the drawer where the gun was carefully wrapped in one of his shirts. He needed to do this before he lost his resolve.

Racking the slide and switching off the safety, Jack raised the gun and placed the barrel just behind his temple. He closed his eyes and took one last deep breath as he squeezed the trigger.

His whole body lurched forward as something slammed into him from behind. Fingers dug painfully into the lacerations on his wrist as they forced his arm up, causing the bullet to only ruffle his hair as the gun fired just over the top of his head. His hand was twisted until his grip went slack and the gun fell to the floor. Two hands now on his shoulders spun him around to face their owner.

“Just what do you think you are doing?!” Pitch yelled. At one point, Jack would have flinched away and cowered in fear, but he just didn’t care anymore.

“I thought you would be _intelligent_ and _experienced_ enough to figure that out,” Jack bit out, throwing words Pitch had once mocked him with back at him. Pitch’s eyes widened and he took a step away, on the retreat for once, though he quickly regained his composure.

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me,” he snarled, “and you will not consider doing such a thing again.”

His words had no effect on Jack, who shrugged indifferently and brushed past Pitch on his way to the door. “I’m not afraid of you any longer. I’m not afraid of death either.”

“I could do much worse than kill you, Jack,” Pitch threatened. “You have no idea of the things I could do. I could keep you alive, torture you while prolonging your existence.”

Jack paused at the door, sparing a glance over his shoulder before he exited. “You’re already doing that.”


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original ask has been lost, but Jack and Sera were sent away to a safe house until some danger passes. Now they're returning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was on my computer in the same folder as the other prompts, but I don't think it was ever posted. I didn't see it on Tumblr at all and my ask box it too much of a mess to look around in there. I'm also not sure if this is finished? ahah Sorry!

As soon as Seraphina ran into Pitch’s arms, Jack slipped away to his room. He figured it would be best to give them some private time after listening to Seraphina ask for her daddy every day for the two weeks and he was sure Pitch had been similarly distraught. He kept his distance for the rest of the day, avoiding places he knew Pitch and Sera would most likely be.

It wasn’t until late at night that Jack ran into Pitch as he was closing the door to Sera’s room.

“Jack,” he practically sighed, sweeping Jack into a hug. His feet lifted off the ground as Pitch spun him around and, startled, Jack laughed and clung to Pitch. He was glad that Pitch seemed to miss him just as much as he had.

“Well, that was an unexpected reaction,” Jack said. Pitch had stopped spinning, but he still held Jack up so his feet dangled off the ground.

“I missed you,” Pitch murmured into his shoulder.

“I missed you, too,” Jack said. “I just didn’t think you would miss _me_ this much.”

“Where were you all day?” Pitch finally lowered him back to the ground, though he didn’t let go and kissed Jack deeply before he could answer.

“I was giving you and Sera some space,” Jack replied when he had his breath back. “I thought—”

“There’s always room for you.”

Unsure how to respond, Jack just folded himself more into Pitch’s embrace and tightened his own arms around him. They remained like that for a while and Jack, feeling comfortable and safe, was content to do just that.

It was too soon when Pitch pulled away, but he took Jack’s hand and led him down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Jack asked, realizing they were heading in the opposite direction of his room.

Pitch didn’t answer, but stopped at a door and opened it. It was a bedroom, pretty standard for those in Pitch’s mansion, but would be considered luxurious anywhere else. It didn’t have much in the way of personal touches, but there was something about it that Jack couldn’t quite place that was fundamentally _Pitch_.

“My room,” Pitch finally answered, confirming Jack’s suspicions.

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise as Pitch pulled him inside. He was actually a bit awed that Pitch brought him here. Pitch wouldn’t trust just anyone to enter his most private space.

“I missed you,” Pitch said again, tilting Jack’s head up to kiss him.


	4. Three Sentence Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some three sentence prompts I filled.
> 
> Nachtgespenst asked for "Jack having some quality time with his hand because Pitch won't."
> 
> Justicecookie666 asked for "Pitch microchips Jack - he likes to know where his interest is and needs to be able to find him and chipping Seraphim is out of the question so two birds, one stone! Jack finds out and is unamused, slightly freaked but so resigned~"
> 
> Justicecookie666 also asked for "Jack refuses to take a break, pitch doesn't argue, he just reaches for the chloroform."

Before, Jack would never have considered doing something like this, something he only did alone in the dark of his room late at night, something that he didn’t consider shameful, of course, but definitely something that should be kept to oneself and avoided mentioning in public—yet, here he was, not exactly in public, but certainly not in private.

He had been naked around Pitch plenty of times before, obviously, but never had he felt as exposed as he did now, sitting on Pitch’s desk with his legs splayed and feet resting on the arms of the chair Pitch was seated in, trying to ignore the casual air that surrounded Pitch as he leaned back and simply observed as if he were watching a mildly entertaining sports match or something.

And hey!—Jack didn’t overcome near mortification to be considered mildly entertaining, so he stroked himself a little faster and brought the moaning up a notch and if he sounded a bit like a porn star then all the better if it caught Pitch’s attention more.

 

* * *

 

“Why?” Jack sighed, more resigned and annoyed than angry, and ran the pad of his finger over the previously unnoticed tiny bump on his forearm, which Pitch had just informed him was a microchip and not some cancerous thing that needed to be removed—though Jack still thought it was something that needed to be removed.

“Because I like to keep tabs on my things, for emergencies, of course,” Pitch said as he grasped Jack’s wrist, bringing his arm up to his mouth to press a kiss to the bump, “just in case something bad happens and I need to know where you are, for instance.”

“By ‘something bad’ you mean getting horny, I’m sure,” Jack said, rolling his eyes, “but I suppose some people are just that desperate to make sure their booty call gets through …” Jack trailed off into laughter at the expression of offense on Pitch’s face.

* * *

 

“I’m fi—i—i—ine,” Jack said around a jaw cracking yawn and Pitch gave him a look he hoped conveyed he wasn’t buying it, “I’m just a little tired, but this is due tomorrow and I really need to finish it—you already know that, though, I told you about it!”

“Yes, Jack, and thank you for doing that, now just look at me for a moment,” Pitch said and Jack turned to him with a questioning look on his face, which Pitch quickly covered with the chloroform-soaked rag, watching as Jack’s eyes widened and he shouted something that sounded like “What the fuck!” though it was muffled by the rag.

Eventually, Jack’s body went limp and Pitch (after a few moments of admiring the contrast of the white cloth against the dark bags under Jack’s eyes) he tossed the rag aside and slid his arms under Jack’s back and knees, picking him up to carry him to his room and, as he left, Pitch gestured at the professional cartographer standing outside the door, indicating that it was clear for him to go finish Jack’s homework.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JusticeCookie also wrote an expansion on their second prompt! You can read it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2675648)


	5. April Fool's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch's plan to pull one over on Jack before he gets pranked himself ends up backfiring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last thing I have that I posted on Tumblr, but not Ao3! Again, you can find me on Twitter at [charmed_7293](https://twitter.com/charmed_7293) and on PillowFort at [fukujoshi](https://www.pillowfort.io/fukujoshi).

Someone was following him. Jack could sense it. He was already on high alert since the driver was late to pick him up, so he didn’t need to look over his shoulder to be sure of it.

Since the car hadn’t been there when he had exited the main gates of his university, he’d been wandering around the edge of campus and through the surrounding streets for an hour now. At first he had just been looking for the car, figuring the driver couldn’t find a parking space or something, but then someone definitely started following him, so he tried to make it seem like he was heading somewhere with a purpose. If they were trained for this kind of thing, he had no hope of shaking them, but maybe he could outrun them. He was fast and he knew the area like he knew what Pitch liked during a blow job.

Jack took a right at the next corner and broke into a sprint. Hopefully he would be able to make it to the alley a few yards away before the person tailing him even turned the corner and if he didn’t he could still lose them in the maze-like network of alleys on this block. He still didn’t dare look behind him, but the sound of running footsteps urged him to go faster.

Vaulting over cardboard boxes and skirting dumpsters, Jack followed twists and turns seemingly at random, but he knew the way to the alley that would dump him out into the busiest intersection in town, where he could lose his stalker in the crowd. He skidded around the 90 degree turn to that last alley and his stomach dropped. A tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire blocked the way near the mouth of the alley.

His pursuer was only getting closer, leaving him with no choice but to climb. Jack didn’t break stride as he ran toward the fence and launched himself at it. Managing to land halfway up, he scrambled to the top and made to swing his leg over, disregarding the barbed wire.

A hand wrapped around his ankle and pulled. One hand lost its grip and he flailed around to regain it, ending up with his fist clenched around the barbed wire. He cried out in pain as his leg was yanked again, making him tighten his grip and burying the sharp points into his palm.

Making sure he had a solid hold on the smooth bar of the fence with his other hand, Jack kicked down with his free leg, aiming for the face. He made contact with a solid _thunk_ , but it seemed to be from an impact to the skull and only caused the person to constrict their hand.

Jack glanced down so he could aim another kick properly, but he went slack with shock at the sight of one of Pitch’s most trusted guards.

“Xavier?” _Why is_ he _chasing me?_

Xavier gave a third tug without giving Jack enough time to recover from his shock. He was pulled from the fence, the barbed wire tear through the skin of his palm, and sent crashing down on top of Xavier toppling them both over.

Jack grunted as his injured hand slammed to the ground to break his fall. He shoved the pain away and used his momentum to continue rolling forward, off Xavier and back onto his feet. He took off running, only to come face to face with a wall of bodyguards.

There was no way he could fight off group of trained men with guns, but he didn’t want to just surrender. He didn’t even understand what was going on. _Why are Pitch’s men attacking me?! If Pitch wants to talk to me, he should just come talk to me!_

The bodyguards rushed at him from all directions, blocking off all potential exits. Hands grabbed at him from all directions, keeping him from escaping, as if he had any hope of that to begin with. Jack twisted and struggled, but there were simply too many people.

Cold metal bands encircled his wrists and his arms were pulled behind his back. He threw himself to the side as someone approached him with a small canvas bag, but three men were there to catch him and hold him still as it was forced over his head. A fist sunk into his stomach, winding him.

Still reeling from the blow, he was thrown over a shoulder, turning his entire world on its end. He had no idea which way was up or down or which direction they were headed in. He figured they had exited an alley when a bit of light filtered through the thick material of the sack, but then he was tossed against a hard, flat surface and everything snapped to blackness with the with the slamming of a trunk door.

* * *

 

Time passed strangely in the trunk. It seemed to speed and slow with the acceleration of the car, stopping completely and starting suddenly as it did. Jack was rolled around with the other contents of the trunk, most of which he wasn’t sure of, but his legs were definitely tangled in a rope and the handle of a shovel was definitely digging into his back. Or it could be the long barrel of a gun, but he didn’t want to think that. Not that a shovel was much better, since they would probably make him dig his own grave before beating him to death with it.

 _Maybe the gun is better. Well, I really prefer_ neither _but there is definitely something there. Maybe they’re not going to use it. Pitch likes to use his own gun to kill people, so I really don’t have anything to worry about. HA, yeah, absolutely nothing to worry about~_

With a sudden burst of panic, Jack began struggling. He twisted his hands around, but only felt the press of metal against the bones of his wrist and twinges of pain from the wound on his palm. He kicked his legs, but only succeeded in getting them more tangled in the rope wrapped around them. He tossed his head around, but only managed to slam it against the flat edge of the shovel.

 _Well, at least now I know it’s a shovel_ , he thought through the pain splitting through his skull, _and how I’m going to die._

A hysterical sob escaped his lips. He squirmed a bit more before going completely limp. There really was no point. Even if he did break through the handcuffs or get the bag off his head, what could he do? He was still trapped in the trunk of a car that was taking him to his death.

Jack tried to hold back his sobs and tears and they dissolved into shallow, uneven gasps of breath, not a much better alternative, especially given his enclosed quarters. Struggling to breathe through the heavy covering over his head, he tried to wrench himself back in control. If he was going to go, it wasn’t going to be as a sniveling mess.

It was still all too soon when the car jolted to a halt. Jack braced himself as the trunk opened and he was hauled out. This time, he was allowed to walk, but strong hands gripped his upper arms, preventing him from escaping and steering him in the direction they wanted him to go.

He was suddenly shoved into a hard-backed chair. One of the cuffs was released and his arms were pulled further behind him so they were crossed over the back of the chair before being restrained again. The bag was pulled off his head.

He was in a warehouse, plain and gray and dimly lit. In the shadows beyond the circle of light his chair was placed in, he could see figures shifting and voices whispering. Eventually, the figures disappeared, melting away until one, with a very familiar profile, was left. Jack glared as it approached him, stepping into the light.

“Ah, Jack, there you are,” Pitch said, a soft, amused smile on his face.

“What the fuck, Pitch?” Jack snapped. Now that he was actually facing Pitch, anger overran his fear. He clenched his fists, uncaring of the pain in his torn hand. _I thought he trusted me,_ cared _for me, and then he does_ this _!_

Pitch’s smiled gained a hard edge. “I’m truly sorry it has come to this, Jack.”

“Come to what, exactly?”

“You really were a great asset, but now . . .”

“Just say it!”

“I’m afraid I don’t have use for you any longer.”

“You’re so full of shit, you know that? And you’re a coward who can’t even say what you’re going to do!” Jack screamed. He strained against his bonds, leaning forward and pushing up to get as close to Pitch as possible.

“Do you remember what I said to you the first time we had sex?” Pitch asked, off-handedly. Jack snarled at being ignored. “I said that I was a man of action, meaning I’m going to _show_ you what I’m going to do. Not tell you.”

Pitch brought his hand out from behind his back, revealing his pistol.

“I don’t like to waste time on unnecessary words, so I’ll only say this. It was good while it lasted.”

“Only _good_ , you bas—” He was cut off as Pitch swept forward and covered his lips with his. Jack made a small, broken sound. He wanted to break away, to spit right in Pitch’s face, but he found himself kissing back. Maybe it was an automatic reaction, maybe it was a last ditch effort to get Pitch to change his mind, or maybe he didn’t want his last moments clogged with bitterness and hate. For whatever reason, it was happening and Jack couldn’t bring himself to change it before Pitch pulled away.

Pitch pressed his lips to his forehead before placing the barrel of his gun on that same spot.

“Again, I’m truly sorry, Jack.”

Jack stared imploringly at Pitch, tears pricking at his eyes. Pitch met his gaze and held it as he pulled the trigger.

The gun only gave a hollow click.

Jack opened eyes he didn’t remember closing, surprised to still be alive. His eyes flicked up to the gun just above his eyes and then to Pitch’s face. A bright smile slowly spread across it.

“April Fool’s, Jack!”

“What . . .” Jack whispered.

Pitch pulled the gun away, spinning it carelessly around his finger before putting it back in the holster. He started to stroll around Jack as he said, “It’s the first of April. You know what that day is! I’m sure you’ve participated in it many times before.”

Jack laughed weakly, staring wide-eyed at the floor. _What just happened? I should be dead!_

The pressure of the metal around his wrists suddenly disappeared and the handcuffs feel to the concrete floor with a clang. Jack brought his arms around front and drew them close to his chest, absently rubbing at the sore spots. He barely listened as Pitch continued talking. His fear and surprise were slowly melting away to leave only anger in their place.

“I was expecting something from you, so I planned this, hoping to get you before you got me. I think it’s safe to say I won this roun—”

Jack stood up and whirled around, punching Pitch squarely in the jaw and sending him stumbling back. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you!?”

Pitch just stared at him in shock, holding the side of his face. Jack breathed heavily, glaring at Pitch and not feeling the slightly bit of sympathy. He picked up the chair and threw it to the side. Clutching at his hair and face, he spun back to Pitch.

“You can’t just do something like _that_! Did it even occur to you that’s something I imagined happening, emphasis on the past tense there because I thought you cared about me and wouldn’t do something like that! But it’s not past anymore, apparently!”

Jack was still angry, furious, but there was nothing else to throw or hit except Pitch, but this was all his doing, so might as well take it out on him.

Pitch had moved his hand from his face and was taking a step forward, concern on his face, as if to calm and comfort him. Jack was far past that, but he was glad Pitch had opened himself up. He drew his arm back and punched Pitch again.

This time, Pitch actually fell backwards and landed hard on the floor. Not wasting a moment, Jack climbed on top and him and gripped the front of Pitch’s shirt to slam his upper body to the floor.

“WHY WOULD YOU FUCKING DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT!?”

“Jack, your hand, it’s hurt, you need to calm down—”

“No, I don’t!” Jack lifted Pitch up and slammed him back down. His hand was still bleeding, soaking into the fabric of Pitch’s shirt, but he paid it no heed. “ _You_ need to realize other people are _not_ your fucking toys and treat them with some _decency_ for _once_ —”

“Jack . . .” Pitch said. It was so soft and quiet, yet caught Jack’s attention like nothing else could have. He froze and stared down at Pitch. “I will apologize if it will make you feel better, but I seriously doubt something as simple as that will be enough for you.”

“Hell right it won’t be.”

“I didn’t imagine this prank would affect you so badly—”

“Pretending you’re going to kill someone isn’t a prank!”

“Either way, I regret causing you distress. Will you allow me to make it up to you?”

Jack stared hard at Pitch. His expression was still mostly shock and Jack was completely willing to take advantage of that. It was time to try something he’d wanted to do for a long time now.

“Okay, fine. Here are my terms: I get to do whatever I want to you. I get to be in control this time.”

Jack’s mouth went dry in anticipation when Pitch nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RoseJennison wrote a version where Jack manages to escape. Check it out [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406197)!


End file.
